


Morrigan

by ConflictingOpinions



Category: The Saga of Darren Shan - Darren Shan
Genre: AU, Gen, I'm Sorry, This is like really old, and crappy compared to my current writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConflictingOpinions/pseuds/ConflictingOpinions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of what happens after a different possible outcome of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this was written when I was thirteen. I was really into this series and my friend and I decided to write a fanfiction for it. I've had some really bad writer's block and haven't been able to work on my other stories, and I stumbled upon this. It's honestly pretty bad, but I thought maybe there are some people who might enjoy it.  
> I'm currently doing some basic editing on this so it isn't too painful for everyone, but most of it is left pretty much the same as it was back when I was in middle school. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

A year ago, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. A year ago, Grams always had a mug of hot cocoa ready for me on rainy days. A year ago, I had a family. But that was a year ago. Now, I've lost all sight of my future, Grams is dead, and my family has disappeared. Everyone else that I've spoken to has told me they died when I was young. That Grams had raised me, and I got monthly paychecks from "Uncle D". But that's not how it was. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me take you back to the day when my life was torn apart.

  
I woke up from a nightmare. The kind that you can't remember anything about but the sheer terror you felt. The kind of nightmare that leaves you looking behind yourself every few seconds to make sure that it doesn't start to come true. That was the first nightmare I'd had in years. Shaking my head, perhaps hoping that all the scary thoughts would fly out of it, I checked the clock. 10:37. Everyone would be at church by now. They knew I didn't believe in God, so they let me stay home on Sunday mornings.

  
I got dressed and trudged downstairs. Maybe they'd left some breakfast for me. If not, then I could make toast or something. I pulled the fridge open, greeted by the sight of a crepe with my name written on the plastic wrap covering it. I popped it in the microwave, and started making myself a cup of tea. All of a sudden, I heard a whisper, a word I couldn't quite make out. A cold hand touched my shoulder-blade. I whirled around. No one. Then, another sound, much clearer now: a child laughing. It was a laugh of pure joy, but a shiver still went up my spine. The curtains opened of their own accord, and a chair pulled itself out from under the table. It creaked a little, like someone was sitting on it.

  
The laughing continued. Now there was more. Flashes of something, like the old black and white movies, moving quickly, with jerky movements. The laughing turned to screams, as the stove to my right flickered to life. I could feel all of the pain and sadness, but I forced it back. The little girl inside me wanted to phone my father even if he was at church or work, or call for mother, or run next door to Grams so that she could cradle me and make the nightmares go away, like she always did. But I knew I couldn't, so I squashed that part of me, and slammed my hands over my ears.

  
"No!" I screamed, "No, get out of here! I won't have you bringing any of your misfortune into my house! Get out! Leave, and take your nightmares with you!"

  
And just like that, it stopped. I ignored the timer going off on the microwave, and instead turned back to the fridge, and flung it open. No milk, 1 egg left. Good. I needed an excuse to get out of this house. My family and Grams would know the truth, but if anyone else asked, I would have an excuse. I ran to the shed, and practically threw myself into the driveway on my bike, when Grams called out to me.

  
"Oh, Jayden, dear! Good to see that you're awake! Where are you going?" She asked in her thick German accent.

  
"The store." I said grimly, not bothering to elaborate  
"Again?" she asked, immediately understanding what I really meant, "Jayden, why didn't you get me? Oh, poor dear, I'll come visit you in a bit."

  
I didn't say anything, just nodded, and then sped off down the street. I didn't like running away from something that would always come back to me, but sometimes I just had to. This was one of those times.  
The rest of the day was uneventful. After I got back, nothing else spooky happened, and Grams came over at promptly 11:45. It was at 12:30 when I realized that something was off.

  
"That's strange. They should be here by now. Maybe I should ring them." I muttered.  
  
"What's that, now?" Grams asked, looking up from her crossword.

"Church was let out half an hour ago, and it's only a 5 minute drive. Mum and Dad would have called if there was car trouble."

  
"Sweetheart, should I call the doctor? It seems like you may be having a bit of post-traumatic stress again. Don't you remember?"

  
"What are you talking about, Grams? Remember what?"

"Jayden, your parents died in an airplane accident nearly 15 years ago."

  
"What? But that can't be right! Mum and Dad had you over last night for cake! And Terry! My little sister! Remember, she broke her arm in year 2, and you took care of her? Oh, please don't tell me that you've forgotten them!"

  
"Oh, Jayden, sweetheart, I haven't forgotten them. Why, I helped raise your parents! You had been born a few months ago when they came back from visiting family in Sweden, and the airplane crashed. 23 people died, your parents among them, and you never had a sister."

  
I shook my head in disbelief. "Grams, you're nearly 90 years old. Maybe we should get the doctor to look at you instead of me. Your mind is just playing tricks on you. My parents are still alive."

  
She looked at me, the edge in her voice the only thing betraying the fact that she was offended at my comment. "Dear, I am perfectly in my right mind. Look, I can prove it!" she pulled an envelope out of her cardigan pocket, "You got a paycheck from your uncle today, and it looks like there's a note inside, too."

  
The check was for 80,000 Euro, and the note was on fancy stationary, but I'd never seen the handwriting before. At first I thought that it was a hoax, but the letter was clearly addressed to me. "To Miss Jayden MacDowell" it said on the back. The note was explaining to me that extra money had been sent this month, on account that it was the 15th anniversary of my parents' death, and this was to help with any extra needs that I might have (extra needs most likely being hospital visits. It didn't say that, but I could tell what it meant). It was signed "Uncle D.".

  
I cried for hours after that, completely unable to believe any of this, and Grams held me the whole time, muttering to me, and singing me the lullaby she used to sing when I had my nightmares, treating me like a child again. Normally, I would have shoved her away, but I didn't have the heart to this time.

The next day, at school, I asked around about my parents, and got virtually the same answer that I got from Grams every time. Then I got paged to come to the main office. When I got there, I was told to go to the principal's office.

  
"Oh, great." I thought, "Without a doubt, he's heard about me asking about my parents. He's probably going to send me to the loony bin! Oh, jeez, I really hope not." I slowly turned the doorknob and peeked inside the office.

  
The principal had a very somber face, unlike his normal, happy expression. Something bad had happened. I stepped in, and invited myself to take a seat, because he obviously was not going to.  
"We've gotten a phone call from the hospital." He said, slowly, carefully, as if trying to tiptoe around a sleeping dragon. "It seems that your guardian, Tabitha Greune, has had a heart attack. She's requested to see you. You may be excused from your classes." I was struck dumb for a moment.

  
_Oh, please, please not Grams, too._ I thought, but I just nodded, thanked the principal, and excused myself from the room. The secretary barely got the excuse note into my hand before I left the office.  
I gave the note to my teacher, and ran to the bike rack. I pedaled to the hospital, and didn't stop 'till I got there. I rushed in, hardly giving the nurses any time to ask my name and relations to the patient. The only reason that I slowed down was to ask them where Grams was. After what seemed like an eternity of running through a never-ending maze, I made it to her room. For hours, we talked about the days when I was still small enough for her to carry me, and all of the times that I'd terrified her by climbing in the trees, all the times we got sick from my cooking. I told her that she couldn't just give up on life like this, that the doctors would be able to help her. She just smiled sadly and shook her head.  


"Sometimes, you just know when it's best to let go. I've lived a long time, and I think now I should make way for others. Looking at you, knowing how you are, I think you'll be able to manage without me."

  
Tears stung my eyes, and I let them fall. It seemed like all I could do nowadays. "And if you make it? What will you do then?'

  
"I'll do like every day, and have a mug of hot cocoa ready for you when you get home."

  
"Will it have some cinnamon?"

  
"Of course, love."

  
That was the last word that Grams ever spoke. The day after the funeral, I dropped out of school. I couldn't handle this any more. My parents were gone, and I was the only one who remembered them, Grams was dead; the stress was too much. Eventually, I got over my grief. I could say it was because Grams wouldn't have wanted me to be like this, but it was really because the spooks and nightmares came back by the truckloads now that I didn't try to stop them any more, and I just needed to get away. Unable to take any more solitude, grief, and nightmares, I signed up for night classes for art. I was no good at it, but I kept on going, just so the emotions could flow freely without me having to speak them.

  
But that was a year ago, and my story is happening now.

  
I was running home. I didn't like being out on my own at night. It was nearly 10 at the moment, so I decided that it would be best to take a shortcut through an empty field nearby, but when I got there, it wasn't empty. Tents and a caravan had been set up, and a glowing sign above the largest tent read "CIRQUE DU FREAK" in all capital letters. In a rush to get home, I tried to work my way around the Circus members and the torrent of people going in to the main tent. But eventually, I stopped trying to fight my way through, and sat down on the hard-packed earth, waiting for the crowd to disperse.

  
Nearly 20 minutes later, the crowd had finally gone inside the tent, and the flap that substituted a door was tied shut. As I crept past, so as not to disturb the workers still setting stuff up, a hand fell on to my shoulder. At first I thought it was one of my night mares, but then realized that the hand was warm, not ice cold like those on my nightmares. I turned around and saw a pair of kneecaps. Curious, I looked up, and saw an incredibly tall man. He had a strange appearance and an air of authority, but a kind face.

  
"Well, you're rather tall, aren't you?" I said. He looked at me strangely, and then chuckled.

  
"Really? I was under the impression that everyone else was just short."

  
An odd look flickered across his face, like something was just now registering in his mind. He opened up the tent flap once more, and motioned inside "Well?" he asked, " Are you going to watch the show?"  
"No," I answered very tactlessly, "I don't have a ticket, and I haven't any money to buy one with." he just smiled wanly at me.

  
"Young lady, I own this circus, and I can choose whom to let inside. So, I'll make a deal with you. As long as you tell no one, and swear not to frighten our performers, I'll let you in without a ticket, and free of charge." he motioned inside the tent a second time, but slightly more expectantly now. "You may choose not to watch, but I think that you would be missing out on an amazing experience if you stay out here." He wasn't taking no for an answer.

  
Tentatively, I stepped inside, a little worried about what I might see on display at this circus of freaks, but I was never really one to give in to fear. I managed to find a seat right in the center of the middle row. Prime viewing position, but I didn't want it. I was fine with watching circuses, but they made me feel so tiny and squashed. They were too hot, and humid, and there was always too much hype about the acts. A freak show was worse, because so many people loved to jeer at others just because they weren't perfect, making the show particularly uncomfortable. I didn't have much time to dwell on this, though. Seconds after I sat down, the spotlights turned on, the tall man stepped onto the stage, and the show began.

By then I should have known that Destiny played a dirty game.  



	2. Chapter 2

I had just wrapped up my personal pep-talk when someone said, "What, I'm gone for 5 years and I don't get so much as a 'Welcome back'?"

  
"Darren!" squealed, and dashed up to my adoptive father, giving him a warm hug. I pulled back and studied his face. Unlike me, he hadn't aged a day since I had been adopted all of 9 years ago. "You're back already?" I asked, "I thought that you were going to be away for longer. Has something happened?”

"Well, I couldn't very well just sit on my throne in Vampire Mountain while you were doing your first solo performance, could I?" he teased, ruffling my hair. He was smiling at me, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. They still looked haunted, like they always did. The flap opened again, allowing a tall ginger in a red coat to enter.

  
"Ah, she was in her tent after all. I thought she'd be on-stage by now. Good to see you again, Alicia." he said, giving me a curt nod.

  
"Hi, Mr. Crepsley! It's good to see you, too." I listened for a moment, and heard the crowd begin to clap, "Sorry, I probably should get going. My act's coming up pretty soon. I can't believe it! I finally get to perform on my own!"

  
Darren was silent for a moment, but then smiled at me once again, "Yeah, it's hard to believe you've been with us for so long." He patted me on the back and then shoved me out of the tent in a playful manner, "Well, get out of here kid! Don't want to keep the audience waiting!" I nodded and then ran to the big tent, giving Darren and Mr. Crepsley a parting wave. I could barely hear Darren yelling "Break a leg!"

  
Backstage, I waited my turn to do my act. Merla gave me a reassuring look as she entered the stage. I gulped. I was the next one up. A large hand patted my elbow, rousing me from my nervous trance, and I immediately looked down. For a moment my blood ran cold when I saw the dark blue robes of a little person, but then I realized it was only Harkat, and relaxed a little bit.

  
I was surprised to see him here, but then I remembered that he went wherever Darren went, and if Darren was here, so was Harkat. I felt a little guilty then-Harkat and I had been good friends for a long time, and I had completely forgotten him until just now.

  
Harkat pulled down his mask and flashed me a wide grin that stretched almost all the way across his scarred, gray face. "You'll do just fine Mr. Tall wouldn't have you perform if he didn't think you were ready." he told me in a knowing voice, patting my elbow again. I guess I didn't hide my anxiousness as well as I'd hoped.

  
"Thanks Harkat." I said in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. I was so nervous that my voice had become shaky. I thought of maybe going to Mr. Tall and asking him to drop me from the lineup, but it was too late. He was already announcing my act. It would have been cowardly to back down now.

  
"AND NOW, THE WOLFMAN AND HIS TRAINER, ALICIA SHORT!"

I let out a trembling breath and entered from stage right, while the Wolf-man was brought in from stage left in his cage. I took center stage, and struggled to remember my opening lines, but the stage lights were so bright, there were so many people. I scanned the audience's faces. Frightened, tired, excited, anticipating. They all wanted a good show. I wanted to give them a good show, but it was like their eyes were boring into me, daring me to even move. And then I made a mistake.

I had locked eyes with one of the audience members. She was about my age, with long, wavy red hair, some of which was covering her right eye. She looked like she didn't really want to be here. No, no this was bad! The worst mistake a performer could make is to make eye contact with a spectator. It throws them off, which can be especially dangerous with our show. And yet this didn't seem throw me off. It was almost as if she was telling me to get on with it, forget about the people staring at me and play my part. I looked at her in what I hoped was a questioning way, trying to ask her through my thoughts if she was, in fact, telling me to start. She jumped a bit, startled, but then settled again and nodded slightly. She knew I had gotten the message.

Finally, I could speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I called out in a voice that seemed distant and not my own, "I have spent the past 7 years training the wolf-man! It takes a great deal of effort to keep him under my control as it is. I must ask you to remain very still and very silent, or a severe accident may occur."

Everybody straightened up at that. Now I've really got their attention. I went on, telling them that the tricks that I was about to do were-even though they looked simple-incredibly dangerous and required my absolute concentration. Once I was satisfied with my speech, I began. First I hypnotized the wolf-man with a pendulum, and told him to lower his paw. Carefully, I sat down on it, and told him "up." The wolf-man hefted me above his head. I gave a sharp whistle, and he tossed me. There was a collective gasp from the crowd, but another whistle made him snag me from midair.

More tricks followed. As the finale, I asked two stage hands to walk the wolf-man through the crowd while he had a heavy length of chain attached to his collar, just like the cirque always did. I was really worried about this part. I'd had to spend the past 7 years of my life training the wolf-man, and most of that time was spent just trying to keep him under control. What if people thought that he was actually a docile creature and tried to do a trick with him? Or what if my hypnotism wore off? Or what if someone dropped something and made a loud noise?

But nothing happened. With every row that was safely passed, the tightness in my chest subsided a little more. But then some man in the middle row threw a wad of trash that hit the wolf-man on the side of the head.

"Oi! You're just a fake aint'cha? He's not dangerous at all is he?" I flinched. The wolf-man was starting to growl. The man just laughed and tossed more trash. The wolf-man’s eyes flashed and he bared his fangs, a low growl rumbled up from his throat. The red-haired girl from before stood up and grabbed the man's shoulder.

"My god, you idiot, shut up and sit down! Can't you see you're making it angry?!" she cried out in a heavy Scottish accent. The man turned around and opened his mouth to argue, but something in her face silenced him. He sat back down, looking a little ashamed of his behavior. I finally stopped quaking. The wolf-man was straining against his chain, trying to get at the trash-thrower, but the stage hands were making good headway towards the stage. It looked like my first performance wouldn't end in disaster like I thought it would. I let out a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be all right.

That was when the chain snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please leave comments/kudos! :)


	3. Chapter 3

The audience was in an uproar. The wolf-man was headed straight for the middle row! The man next to me who had previously been so sure that we were in no way endangered by the beast was screaming out most every obscenity the world had ever heard, while trying to make his way through the hysterical crowd. I wanted to run too, but my feet were glued to the floor, and all I could think was _I'm going to die. I'm going to be killed by a wolf-man in a freak show that I didn't even want to go to._

As the wolf-man barreled towards me, I noticed something: the remainder of the chain around his neck was heavy, solid steel, in very good condition, without a speck of rust. there was no way it would just break like it had, without any warning. Someone must have tampered with the chain! I tried yet again to turn and run, but I was frozen in place, completely paralyzed by fear.

The wolf-man was almost upon me when I, for lack of any other possible way to defend myself, shrieked at the top of my lungs.

The wolf-man shook his head a bit. Maybe I had hurt his ears, but I had no time to think about it. I could move again! I tried to get away, but there was so much chaos that there was nowhere to run. I dove underneath a row of seats, hoping I would be out of reach. I wasn't. The four seats above me were torn upwards, leaving me totally exposed. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for a death blow, hoping that my end would come quickly. Nothing happened, no pain from claws tearing at me, just fear. I cracked my eyes open. The girl that had been on-stage with the wolf-man was using a pendulum to hypnotize him. It wasn't working very well, but at least he wasn't ripping anyone's throat out. Yet.

Then the wolf-man's eyes cleared as he broke the trance, and he lunged for the girl. I shot up and grabbed her arm, trying to pull her out of the way. The wolf-man swiped at me, leaving a deep gash on my shoulder. Pain exploded in the joint, and a cry of agony escaped my lips. Then the tall man from before reappeared. He grabbed the wolf-man by the neck then carried him back to the cage and locked him up. The man turned back to the middle row, his dark, soulless eyes glowering down at everyone.

"YOU" He shouted, pointing at the trash-thrower, "DID WE NOT GIVE YOU SPECIFIC RULES TO FOLLOW?! DID WE NOT EXPLAIN TO YOU THAT THE WOLF-MAN WAS A VERY DANGEROUS CREATURE?! IF YOU DO NOT PLAN TO FOLLOW THE RULES, THEN I SUGGEST YOU LEAVE!"

The tall man didn't need to give a second warning. The trash-thrower made a mad dash for the door, stumbling several times on the way out. Once he had left the tall man turned and looked at me. "And as for you," he said in a slightly less agitated voice, "Follow Alicia.", he gestured to the stage-girl, " She'll take you to get some medical attention. I only deal with major injuries."

I nodded shakily, and, holding my bloody shoulder tightly, I followed the girl who had tried to help me. As soon as we were out of the tent, she lost it.

"I'm so sorry!" She cried, turning to me "I didn't mean for that to happen! I just messed up my very first performance, and you got hurt! I'm so sorry!" Tears were streaming down her face so fast that I was worried we would all drown.

"It's alright.' I told her, a little too harshly, "If you want to blame someone, blame the idiot who threw the garbage." She flinched a bit at my tone, but then nodded, and, still sniffling, led me to a smaller tent. She asked me to take a seat and keep pressure on my shoulder while she rifled through a first-aid kit. After she found some bandages and disinfectant, she asked me to take off my jacket. I slipped it off, rolled up my sleeve, and let her examine my wound. She had just started to wash my cut when a head poked into the tent. It was a man with dark hair and hazel eyes.

"Hey, Ali. Are you alright? I'm so sorry about what happened." he asked her. Was he her dad? Then he saw me, and Alicia's red eyes. His face went blank."Do you need some help?" Ali shook her head, tears springing up into her eyes yet again. "Okay." he said in an uncertain manner, "I'll be outside if you need me."

Alicia bandaged up my shoulder pretty neatly, and told me it would be best to just sit for a while so she could keep an eye on me, and let myself recover for a bit. I didn't want to, but I figured it was 'better safe than sorry', in the words of some wrinkly old philosopher who was now living in a retirement community. A few minutes passed, and I started to get impatient. Ali offered to get me something to drink or eat, but I turned her down. I was uncomfortable enough as it was, and I didn't want her to start being all buddy-buddy with me.

"Did you have a bag with you?" she asked me a little while later. I looked at her suspiciously.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, you can leave soon, so I was going to go get your bag for you. Just, you know, to make up for the accident a bit." I considered this. On the one hand, I was letting a total stranger from a shady freak show get my bag for me, but on the other hand, they had saved my life, plus, it would give me a little time alone.

"Fine. It's an olive-colored satchel with a "J" monogrammed on the left corner." _What's the worst she can do?_ I asked myself, _There's nothing in there but some crappy art, besides, she doesn't look like she'd have the guts to con me._

"Okay! I'll be back soon!" Ali told me, smiling, and then left the tent. It didn't take her long to return, and after a few more minutes of trying to get her to stop apologizing, I was off.

I walked home at a leisurely pace. There was no use trying to get home early by now. I gazed up at the harvest moon, and breathed in the crisp autumn air. Winter would be here soon. I could smell it. All the while, I was turning tonight's events over and over in my head.

"I'm just glad this is all over." I murmured to myself.


	4. Chapter 4

I didn't bother leaving a note. With all the hubbub from tonight’s performance, I probably wouldn't be missed until much later. I would have worried that someone would stop me and ask me about what happened, but they all knew by now that I liked to be left alone when I was upset.

I was very curious about that red-haired girl. Something about her was off, and I wanted to know what. I had put on some more sensible, less noticeable clothes, and followed her. I hoped that living with a vampire for 9 years would give me an edge in tracking.

As she made her way home, the girl spoke to herself softly now and then, but didn't stop walking the whole way to her house. The cirque had set up outside of town, and about halfway through the walk, I caught a glimpse of a sign welcoming us to East Kilbride. It took us about half an hour to get to her residence, but when we did approach it, I had to stop and take it all in for a bit.

It was one of those old houses from the Victorian era, with elaborate moldings, complete with tall arched windows, ivy snaking along the outside walls, and a name etched into the lintel. It wasn't a very large house, but its beauty made up for that completely.

Once she had gone in, I stood by a window, angling myself so that I could see her from outside, but she couldn't see me from inside. The interior was warm and bright, but the girl was alone. I had grown up in an orphanage, and then a freak show with a vampire for a dad, so I was pretty much clueless about actual family life, but I had thought someone would at least come and say hello to her. No one did.

I heard thumps, and realized that she was going upstairs. I went around to the side of the house and tugged on some ivy. It was thick and sturdy. It would hold me. Slowly and painstakingly I climbed up. I pressed my ear against the outside wall, hoping I could hear snatches of a conversation or something. I heard the rush of water through pipes. If I wanted to find out about her, it was now or never.

I spied a balcony to the left of where I was. I inched my way over, and, taking a deep breath, leaped the next few feet. I barely cleared the railing, but caught myself before I hit the deck. The room accessing the balcony must have been the girl's. It didn't look like it would be the bedroom of an adult. Pressing my face against the French doors, I was able to get a better look at the room. The walls were painted a dull teal, and had fairly terrible paintings and sketches leaned up against them.

Darren had taught me how to pick locks, and I had had the foresight to bring a few pins with me, so I let myself in. I took off my shoes and, holding them in one hand, padded across the oak flooring. On her dresser there were several photos of her, and only of her. She hadn't seemed like a narcissist, and the way she was standing-leaning against nothing, her arms stuck out at odd angles-someone must have been erased from the pictures.

Okay, maybe she was a closet narcissist.

Other than that, there were spartan furnishings in her bedroom, so I went into the hallway. The sign on the back of the door said Jayden. Now I knew her name. After seeing that there was only an empty room across the hall, and the bathroom next door, I went downstairs, hugging the walls so as not to make a sound.

Downstairs was an entry hall, a kitchen, a dining room, a master bedroom with a full bath, a half bath, and a living room. On the living room, there were more pictures, some with Jayden in them, some with only scenery. All the lights were on, but the fireplace remained unlit, as did the mounted lanterns above it.

The water from the upstairs bath shut off, and I hurried back upstairs and out the french doors as quietly as I could. I tossed my shoes over the balcony and slid down the ivy and waited, holding my breath, hoping that I hadn't been seen. No one came out screaming at me, so I thought it safe to move again, and ran back to Cirque Du Freak.

The next morning it was a Saturday, and I assumed that Jayden would be at home, so I went back. My curiosity had not stopped bothering me all night, and something in the back of my mind kept telling me that something wasn't right.

I arrived, and took the same position by the window that I had the night before, and sure enough, not 2 minutes later, I heard her thumping downstairs. She was already wearing her street-clothes, and her hair was brushed. She sat on the couch and turned on the television to the weather. I got the feeling that she wasn't actually watching, though.

For some reason, I felt a cold breeze sweep past me, though no trees moved. The girl seemed to have felt it as well, and stood up, looking around anxiously. Then she threw herself onto the floor. An empty mug on the coffee table lifted itself up, and at the same time, the girl stood, but her hair was floating, but it almost looked like someone was yanking it upwards, and there was an expression of pain on her face.

I moved so I was directly in front of the window, trying to figure out what was happening, but too terrified to rush in and help. The mug slammed against the girl's face and shattered, her face contorted into a shriek, and then she was thrown against the wall, her head banging backwards onto it, over and over again. When it finally stopped, her eyes bugged a bit, her face turning red.

She clawed at her throat, like she was trying to pry something loose, but it didn't work. She lifted a few inches off the floor, her face was now almost violet, and bruise-colored hand-prints were starting to appear. I was just about to break the window and try to help her when it stopped. She fell to the floor, gasping and rubbing her bruised throat, picking shards of pottery out of her cheek.

Her eyes, which had closed because of her beginning to lose consciousness, opened, and just like that night at the cirque, her eyes met mine. I knew that I couldn't just run. She had seen me, and so I stayed, frozen, waiting for her to come out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of what I've already edited. I should have a new chapter up by tomorrow. Thanks for reading, please leave comments/kudos. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I am very sorry. Please leave kudos/comments if you actually enjoyed it. Thanks again. :)


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